Oz, down under

sorry

All right, here’s the sitch, I haven’t blogged in a while and I’m not planning on it anymore. It has nothing to do with me not having fun because I’m having a good time. It’s because I was blogging in the beginning because I missed home and was unhappy. But I’m not anymore, in fact, I don’t want to go home. I have great friends here and while we will all go back to the states together I won’t see them and that sucks. I have done tons since I last posted, for spring break I went to Melbourne which was great, really it was. It rained and was freezing but it was fun. I’d go into detail but I don’t feel like it. I’m really happy and I dont feel like sitting and recounting the things that are great because I’d rather just experience them. When I’m home if I see you you can do the obligatory, “how was your trip, did you have fun, what did you do?” but I’m probably going to answer with, it was fun, I did things, I studied, overall it was great. I’m most likely going to suck at elaborating because in all honesty it will have been the 10th time I will have had to answer the questions. What I have here is going well, and what I have waiting for me at home is going to be great. I was worried that I would get back and people would have changed, moved on, left me behind, but they aren’t, they won’t. In reality I’m going to get back and have to listen to the same petty crap I’ve always had to listen to. The question is how well I will deal with it. I’ve decided once I graduate I’m going to just take a year off and come back and work. The odds are high that that year will turn into two or four or however many I decide before I stop being a nomad and decide to be a grownup. Maybe I’ll write, who knows. But the point of this is that I’m happy, I’ve changed but am still the same, and the people I have met here have changed me and made me happy. So see ya in November folks.

Things that Make me Happy

Dear Kitty,

so this week has been really really great. I moved into Uni Hall on campus and I am super jazzed about it. Plus I get to see my friends every day. So that makes me happy.

I got over my bout of homesickness which totally sucked, like a lot, and now I’m thinking it’s all going to be much better. I mean I still miss home but as terrified as I was that things were going to change and how much I missed my friends, they will all still be there when I get back.

Townsville pride is this coming weekend and I’m not holding my breath hoping it will be good. Judging by the number of times the guys here say faggot I’m guessing they don’t have a super large and outspoken homo community, but one can hope. My friend Tyler who is from Ashville, NC is going to go with me which means most of my other friend will. I’m dragging out my new Australian friend Chanel (who I will talk about later) so it’s going to be really great.

Skyping people from home makes me happy as well. Maybe I should probably skype my family at some point before I head home. Ya know, so they can see that I cut my hair short and dyed it purple and gauged my ears and got a facial tattoo.

Jamie going to college makes me happy. Not in the good riddens *shakes fist* kind of way, but in the thank god he is gone and is going to be a happier person who has to learn to make something other than pasta kind of way. But seriously. He is a good kid and he is having a great time at OU which I totally support.

Talented people. I don’t always believe in promoting others but when I do I promote this girl. 

http://chanelbaranphotographics.4ormat.com/home

WARNING: THIS CONTAINS NUDITY SO ENJOY, and besides it’s art so if you are judgemental you can close your eyes or visualise clothes. Ordering prints is possible so if you want one you should get one, or four, just let me know.

You really need to check out her work, this is Chanel’s and her and I are going to be friends whether she likes it or not. 

This: http://sarcasmismybestfriend.tumblr.com/post/9726397673/at-120-degrees-it-was-so-hot-in-australia-that-koalas

I also really like classical music when studying, which I have been doing a ton of recently because I have three research essays due at the beginning of October. I have learned that it only costs 45 dollars to join the KKK with my student status so that’s super convenient. Also they have tv shows that look like they are filmed with a camera from the late 90s early 2000s. God knows how many government lists I am on at this point in my life. Anyway classical makes me happy.

I’m coming home in November rather than December so I get to make it to Thanksgiving and everything so that makes me really happy too.

This place:

Care packages from my mom that have bad magazines, teas, and a note I accidently threw away.

Whiskers on kittens and brown paper packages tied up with string as well as girls in white dresses minus the dress and add some jeans and a t-shirt. And speaking of the Sound of Music and the great Julie Andrews, Tyler (gay American) and I decided we would have beautiful babies together and raise them like the family von Trapp, but he called the position of Maria so I’m stuck with the Captain. He has better clothes anyway.

The way rain smells. **The smell of rain is actually called petrichor** It has so far rained three times total since I arrived. Three times in nearly 10 weeks. The first time it rained I was stuck walking in it, the second I ran outside to feel it on my skin and taste it, and the third time it was a downpour for like a half hour and I hid under a pavilion. I hear Ohio and PA got some rain and I’m jealous.

Writing and receiving letters. HINT HINT. My address is as follows.

Myriah Hankins

University Hall

James Cook University

Douglas, QLD, 4811

Australia

I will accept things like tea and pictures coloured by small children, glitter art, stickers, pictures of places or things or babies, and crayons. I figure if I can get one crayon from each person I should be able to make up a small pack just as long as no one sends the same colour as someone else. If you would like to send checks please send them to my parents house as cashing a check here takes 6 weeks.

White crayons need not apply

I also love eggs, they make me happy. I get 4 fried eggs every Saturday for breakfast as that is the only time I will all week.

Oh, and Kitty, you make me happy.

Love,

Myriah

PS: here are some pictures for you to enjoy

Flower from the top of Castle Hill

On the way to the top of the hill I took this one

Bush fires as seen from the hill

Aminals Part Dos

Dear Kitty,

In just this short period of time since I last shared with you the animals of Australia I have come across a multitude of new species I must share

Seriously You Guys I Caught a Frog

Kitty,

Guess what?????? Last weekend I caught my very own green tree frog. I was at an outdoor bar with all my friends really drunk and a felt something jump on my knee. Naturally I grabbed it and threw it because it could have been a deadly man eating spider. Except it felt like a gecko so that was weird. So I looked on the ground and it was a frog!!! I LOVE frogs. So I picked it back up and proceeded to play with it.

That is me giving the frog to Brittany.

My happy-drunk-supportive face. 

I was also wearing a skirt that night, Abbie forced me into one, I was not willing to do a lot of thinking myself cause that is work.

Also I have moved from off campus onto on campus. I just didn’t like being that far from campus and my friends so I have moved. And now I have a room that is larger than Griffin’s at home. So score. I also have a balcony and my rainbow flag blowin’ in the breeze. Overall I’m very happy with it.

Um oh and I’m now going to New Zealand with friends rather than alone so that is a huge score.

Alright Kitty, that’s all.

Myriah

In Search of Nomvana

Dear Kitty,

So sorry for not writing to you for the past two weeks, I’ve been busy and my computer just went in for some cosmetic surgery. It now has a new vibrant face and high self esteem, thanks for asking.

I’d like to take this time to talk to you about food if I may. There are some things that are just wrong and must be corrected.

1) Campbells Tomato Soup: ALL WRONG. First off, it tastes real. God knows if I wanted to have healthy soup I would go for Healthy Choice. But I don’t. I want condensed pink goop that when milk is added to it (milk is way better than water) it turns a lighter pink. This stuff has flavour. I wouldn’t be surprised if their chicken and stars had actual chicken in it and had a sodium level approved for human consumption rather than salt lick level.

2) Butter: They don’t use butter, they use margarine FOR EVERYTHING. Their aisle that has dairy has seriously only 2 kinds of butter. And they don’t come in sticks, they come in a block the size of four sticks. I kind of miss the taste of butter.

3) Ketchup: Their sad sad excuse for ketchup is something they call tomato sauce. It’s not as sugary and god awful. It kind of tastes like if you added water to tomato paste. It’s bad enough that some people believe that Huntz ketchup is an acceptable substitution to Heinz. I am a huge fan of Heinz, a huge huge fan, ask my parents, it used to be a food group to me.

4) Condiments over all: BBQ sauce is really really vinegar-y, mayo is oily, oh oh oh and their mustard is someone’s sick idea where you mix wasabi sauce and yellow and water together to get this devil mixture of sinus clearing strength.

5) Coffee: They don’t do drip coffee, it’s all that instant shit that no one should enjoy. Their decaf is extra expensive and I’m not paying 6 dollars for nasty coffee. I really really want a cup of coffee really really badly.

6) They also don’t do cornbread which is just a bummer more than anything. I am planning on making some this week.

7) Jelly, or as they call it jam or jell. It’s very gelatinous, not very jam like in my humble opinion.

8) Things they do right here: pop such as Lift, it’s the nectar of the gods

Nectary goodness

Anzac bisquits: quite honestly the best cookie ever. I don’t know how they do it. They are named after Australia and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZAC) and they are so delicious. 

Oh my god, and then there is what we would call Oodles of Noodles A.K.A. Ramen. Except instead you make the noodles and you drain the water and then you add 5, that’s right FIVE different packets of sauces and seasonings and things and then you eat it. I can’t even describe to you the wonder that is 2 minute noodles.

I’m working on a better post for later this week Kitty, but for now that is all.

Myriah

Baby, I’ll Link Your Indigenousness, but Let’s be Serious Now

Dear Kitty,

I would like for you to imagine for a moment this scenario. You are 8 years old hanging out with your brothers at a gas station when this nice black Buick drives up to fuel up. You ask where they are heading and they reply your house. At this point you and your brothers begin automatically moving through the motions that are far too familiar to you. Someone calls a neighbour who calls your house, and then all the other houses in the neighbourhood who have children. Then you run home through the bush as fast as you can to meet your grandmother who is standing outside waiting for you. She looks at the four of you and rushes you into the patch of high grass bush you have been to before. She gives you a bag of sugar, tells you to be quiet, as quiet as you can, and rushes back to the small “house” with the iron roof and ply walls. There is no electricity there or running water but to you and your siblings it is home. The Buick drives up and the men exit the vehicle. Your grandmother meets them outside and they ask her, as you learn later, where the children are. She tells them they are at their fathers, the government men know that your mother died after you were born and that your father lives elsewhere. The men then ask where you sleep, where you bathe, where you get your feed, all of which your grandmother answers. The men leave and you and your brothers come out of the bush. Those men, from the Australian government, were there to take you away from your family and give you to a white family, a family who would raise you correctly, who wouldn’t abuse you, who wouldn’t neglect you. You see, the white Australian government thought that because your grandmother was aboriginal the childcare was neglectful, that she was not a good mother to you. That the way she raised you was the wrong way, and that you would be better off with a white family who knew nothing of your culture or way of life and who wouldn’t teach it to you. This story is a true story told by Uncle Rusty Butler (all aboriginal people are either uncle, auntie, grandmother, grandfather, cousin or some other family name as they are all family), the Aboriginal guide I had the honour of following today, and this is the story of countless Aboriginal and Torres Strait children who were forcibly taken from their loving parents and sent to live with the white man. Mothers who thought that it simply would never happen to them never saw their children ever again, entire skin groups were destroyed between 1870 to 1970, entire cultures effected. The anger felt by the Indigenous people today permeates their culture and poisons their way of life even as they work to overcome this anger. This generation of children is called the Stolen Generation, rightfully so as they were stolen from their way of life and forced into a new, completely wrong one. In 2007 the then prime minister of Australia finally publicly apologised for the acts they committed and since then there have been a great number of improvements in relations between the two cultures.

That is just one story of the many that were told to me during my field trip this weekend for my Indigenous Australian class. Now for the good stuff. Friday was my first class, it was all day, and for the most part it was boring. We went over history and a bit about the culture but nothing like what I learned Saturday and Sunday. Saturday was weapons day, I learned to throw a boomerang pretty well, my shin even managed to catch one as it came back. I also learned to throw a spear and watched Uncle make fire with two sticks and some grass. He is the true survivor man. Uncle showed us different kinds of weapons such as the killer boomerang that is used to break bones, a shield, how to make sharp edges with rocks, stone axes and tomahawks, and he showed us white and red ochre. White ochre, along with being a good paint pigment, when eaten curbs the appetite, so when they go out bush and don’t want to have to pack food will eat the berries on the way and eat the white ochre to stave off hunger. Uncle also told us the story of why the curlew cries at night (the screaming woman bird I talked about in my previous post). It was a very great story about how a snake, egged on by an owl, ate the curlews babies. The mom and dad, after they got home, cried into the night for their babies and banished the owl to darkness forever, which is why it is nocturnal.

Fire good

Boomeranging

Spear throwing

Uncle also told us stories about how his people lived, what they lived on, how each person had their own special skill that they offered to the community. For instance, as the group would go on a walkabout with the children, some in a dillybag on their mothers back, the elders would talk about what they saw, what each plant or rock was, if there was a fruit they would take it, give it to the child, and tell them what it was, thus teaching the child about passionfruit, for instance. Along with that, many of the items had dreamtime stories attached to them (dreamtime stories are stories from the beginning of time about how that particular object came to be). The education for the Aboriginals is very different from western education, and in my opinion much better. They also practice a raised-by-a-village upbringing where each adult taught the children different things giving them a whole education.

Today, Sunday, was an all day trip. First we took the bus to the salt flats where the Aboriginal men will go to fish. It was amazingly beautiful. Uncle told us about how 5,000 years ago they lived on the flats after the water from the glaciers melted and they had to move back from the reef, which at that point was above ground. He said that the really old artwork, the work that is 10,000 years old, is on the reef, which is a very sacred place where the spirits live. Uncle told us not to take anything we see during the entire day because for all we know we might end up picking up a piece of bone and not a rock as we thought. There have been people who have done that and have woken up at night to see an Aboriginal man standing above them with his hands outstretched waiting to be given back the artefact that is rightfully his.

Salt flats

At the flats he also talked about the different trees, plants, and animals that were eaten and used and what they meant to the people. There was a plant there that they will eat if they need some salt, it was quite good, very salty.

Salty plant, Katie Burns: take note

He talked to us about fishing and catching big old barramundi from the pools at the flats and how they make the rope and hooks they use. They use this amazing hook from the anchor vine which they cut to the size and shape they want, the hooks are exceptionally hard and strong. The rope is made from the fibres from a tree that are dried and woven together and then connected to the stem of the vine with the hooks with bees wax and sap from a certain tree. 

Anchor Vine tendrils

Mangrove farm on the side of the road

Our next stop was a few kilometres down the road where we got out and Uncle showed us different trees and plants and their uses as well as telling us to look down for snakes so we don’t die. Uncle showed us how you can take red ash, also called soap tree, and add water and crush the leaves. It was amazing when it started to form suds in his hands. The red ash soap is a natural antiseptic and antibiotic and can help an upset stomach as well as the itch from bugbites.

Red ash leaves

After that we drove farther up the road and stopped at some mud flats which contain big crocodiles occasionally.

Mud flats

Here Uncle showed us a grinding stone that was used by the women to grind the blades of the axes. It was very cool to see how a rock that was used thousands of years ago still had smooth parts from where the rocks were rubbed on it to sharpen the edges.

Grinding rock.

Uncle also showed us plants that were able to be eaten which showed that there was fresh water under the salty mud. Uncle then took us up the hill through the bush to an art site. On the rock was painted the animals that one would find in the area, it was used as a map for visitors to figure out what one could eat. 

On these pictures the purple is a turtle, pink is a spirit figure, blue is a flying fox, red is a kangaroo, green is goanna and orange is one of the many shields painted on the stone. There are more images but I can’t remember what they are.

As we drove to the next site Uncle pointed out pieces of Aboriginal artwork on the sides of the road, many of them cut in half by the people who built the road.

After a lunch in which I ate a chicken sandwich and an egg sandwich in 15 minutes (I know I’m impressive, it’s what makes all the ladies knees weak), we went to Turtle Rock, appropriately named for the giant rock that sits like a turtle shell. This rock lays at the head of a huge amphitheatre that was used by the local Aboriginal people as a place to dance, bury their dead, sell their wares, and have meetings. Because dead are buried here there were certain places and angles that pictures were not allowed for obvious reasons. However, the way in which they treat and bury their dead is amazing. The bottom of Turtle Rock also has many great works of art, many of them signifying the spirits.

Turtle Rock

This snake is the rainbow snake and it protects the area. It emerges from a crack in the rock off to the left. The image of the man who is blue is one of the many who are spirit figures, the ribbing effect with the yellow and black signifies that it is a sacred place. There are more images on the ceiling but I can’t find them very well.

The way the Aboriginal treat and bury their dead: After a member of the community dies they leave them to decompose, all during this time they act as if they were still with them. Their family cleans the bones and breaks the larger ones into more manageable sizes and then puts them in a dillybag on their back. They then walk around with this person, talking to them and taking them with them wherever they go. After a period of time, often around 6 months, they decide that it is time to bury them. They then go and dig a cylindrical hole at whatever place this person wished to be buried, whether it be their favourite fishing hole, or spiritual place they felt most drawn to. Once they are buried the community goes into a fasting period and the name of the deceased is not mentioned, any child named after them is given an interim name until it is okay to say the name again. This is all out of respect for the person who died. I thought it was really very interesting. After enough time has passed they can say their name again. At Turtle Rock there are a few graves that you can see. Uncle told us that twenty years or so ago he came up to the rock and found that a lot of the sand and dirt had washed down the hill and the bones along with it. He and some other community members had to pick up the bones and rebury them. At the site there was a knee cap sitting next to me which he asked me to hand to him. Ladies and gents, I had to touch a dead Aboriginals knee cap today. Just sayin.

This was once someone’s knee

The entire area was just beautiful, very protected, and very sacred. Uncle works very hard to protect the land, to protect his culture, from the Australian government and those who would rather build on it than save it. Uncle told us that most of Townsville is built with the bones of Aboriginal people as the sand that most of the builders used to make cement was taken from burial sites, meaning that ground up bone was used in the cement for most of the old buildings of Tville. Uncle also told us the story of how the crow became black. When we went home where I had the honour of thanking him on behalf of the group for giving us the opportunity that not many people, Australian or otherwise, ever have.

Uncle telling us stories, he is the story teller of his community

Today was an amazing day. It was easily the most rewarding adventure I have had so far down in Oz. I learned a ton of things and gained a lot of respect for a completely misunderstood culture. The Europeans, when they arrived, thought these people were less than human, literally. Until 1967 the Aboriginal people were considered local fauna of Australia, as in the top of the animal food chain but not human. NOT HUMAN. It just makes you think.

Thanks for listening,

Myriah

My Disillusionment Charm Seems to Have Worn Off

WARNING: the language in this post is going to contain words that are not considered politically correct as well as offensive. Sorry but the situation calls for it.

Dear Kitty,

I will post a more fun blog later this week but right now I would like to tell you about how racism and word choice works here in Oz. Now, people seem to be under the false impression that Australia is super liberal and accepting. That is just not true. Most people are pretty damn racist. The Aussies have a general dislike for the Aboriginal people of australia in the same vein of how Americans do not like the Mexicans. So slurs are used a lot in reference to these people who have the most amazing culture I have ever had the opportunity to learn about. Americans also seem to be under the impression that Australia is far more advanced in the issue of gay rights. This is also not true. Gays cannot get married, it is the same. They do recieve partner benefits, but this has nothing to do with the fact that they had to pass a law to allow it, rather it is that a huge percentage of the Australian population is not married and are instead in what we call civil unions. Therefore their partners can recieve rights even if they aren’t married. There is homophobia here, at the basketball games they chant faggot at male players, the word is thrown around, it is not nearly as accepting as we would like to think. Talk about your culture shock.

That being said, Australians have a different kind of lifestyle than we do. The words they use do not carry the same weight as the words cunt, faggot, dyke, abo/lubra (name for Aborigine), and seppo (yankie) do in the states. I would like to think that overall Australians are more accepting but I just do not know as of now.

Myriah

The Aminals of Australia

Dear Kitty,

This post is dedicated to my roommate who loves to look at and dissect things, especially those that can kill you, and to the person I was skyping who got upset when I saw a teal bird and didn’t take a picture.

Here are pictures and descriptions of the living things I have seen so far in Australia, nothing has yet tried to kill me, so success.

Balloon Animals and a Fairly Uninteresting Blogpost

Dear Kitty,

I have completed my first week of classes in Australia. I have somehow landed the most glorious schedule ever. I have 9 hours of class a week and they fall on only three days.

Here’s the breakdown: Uni classes for non-science majors generally have one 2 hour lecture class and one 1 hour tutorial class. So three hours per class. The classes are much more relaxed, the teacher can very often not be a Phd but just be a specialist in the field. The Professor also generally refers to themselves by their first name and so you do as well. There are no tests other than the final, and very few graded assignments, most of which are essays. Therefore, everything is self paced. The lecturer often has a list of readings that they give you that you can chose not to read but clearly it is to your benefit if you do. 

History of Terrorism: Taught by Mervin (Merv). Seems like a pretty cool guy, uses South Park and Simpsons references in his lecture notes.

History of Globalisation: Claire Brennan, kind of dry but over all not terrible.

History of Australian and Pacific Exploration: Also with Claire, and one of my friends so thus not wholly terrible.

Study of Indigenousness: I was under the impression that this class was going to be every Friday from 9-430 during which time I would be going on field trips and the like. Instead the class is set up where I have two Friday classes from 9-430 (one in August and one in September) and then one Saturday class from 9-11 and one on Sunday from 9-5, both are fieldtrips. In the end the time in class equals the same amount as the other ones but instead I have no class on Fridays sans the two. I am a big fan of that schedule. 

I have been trying to be good about my reading but I don’t have all the books I need so until then there isn’t much I can do.

Uni is not the pretties place, as you can see by the pictures, but it has some interesting wild life, as does all of Australia.

The view is nice though eh?

In my bathroom at Cat’s house (this is Cat’s house:)

is a poster of the snakes of Townsville, the giant insects of Australia, and the frogs of Townsville. Every bathroom break becomes a learning experience. For instance, the death adder, the 9th most venomous snake in the world, looks like a poorly blown up balloon animal.

I have yet to seemany scary insects, although a gecko did try to take my head off this week in a rogue display of anger and aggression…or something like that. I did see a spider in Cat’s front lawn the first day I was here. We were sitting down with the neighbour children and KJ (10) says “oh a spider!” so we all jump up and Cat is all “let’s just leave it, it’s just doing it’s spidery thing”. KJ felt other wise, the poor guy didn’t have a chance in hell against her tiny sneaker. (Speaking of sneakers I saw a woman wearing very colourful 200 dollar sneakers and now I want a pair of either of these shoes, preferably the one on the right: 

On a more personal level, although I can’t fathom what could really be more personal than super awesome rainbow glow in the dark shoes, I really miss home and my friends. I knew I would but it still came as a bit of a shock. I kind of would like to fly home and spend a weekend there and then come back here. Not that that is at all possible. Unless I win the lottery. I think the reason I want to go home so badly is because I know I won’t be able to do so for 5 months and that is just a very long deadline. Luckily I have skype so I can talk to my friends and those who are important to me.

I have to put together my resume so that I can get a job here because I am poor, my mac screen is cracked, and I just bought this: beautiful jacket. Please note how absolutely gorgeous it is and be jealous. Clearly I am excited, something you can plainly see through the pictures.

Sometime this week I am going to put together a “wildlife of Australia” post for my dear ex-roommate who secretly hopes that I get bit by one of the snakes here just so I will send her pictures of the wound as it progresses, preferably it will be a necrotic bite.

Until that time, adios.